I don't know why I'm writing this I don't feel anything right now but I'll spread the words out like jam and do my best to portray something.  My mother's speech was engraved into my bones and I feel it everytime I take a step. It's beautiful. Sometimes it hurts. My fathers gaze has pierced my veins and I've never felt a stronger sting then his pity. I, am idifferent to the lust that surrounds me. I am indifferent to the words that try to grasp me and I am indifferent to the gazes that try to catch me. I feel empty and unlatched. It's a good feeling. I feel like water, I feel like clouds. Most of all I feel like a pen waiting to be picked up. I've got nowhere to be and I'm waiting for someone to show me a place to gather a few stones and watch the leaves for awhile. It's not the best way, but what is? I'm drunk. I'm gonna go back and fix my grammar and then I'm gonna post this. It was an experiment. I didn't let myself backspace and I tried typing as fast as I can so my thoughts may ramble and my thumb may slip....